


The Epic Highs and Lows of Being a Wingman

by happybeans



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, Getting Together, Law School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybeans/pseuds/happybeans
Summary: Matt is Foggy's best friend, and it really should be enough for him. But as Foggy brings Matt into his scheming to win over his new crush, Matt can't help but to think about how he wants more. Law school era, baby!
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 62





	The Epic Highs and Lows of Being a Wingman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkforhumanhands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkforhumanhands/gifts).



> This is a gift for the great [hxcpanda!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hxcpanda) Happy birthday, Drew! Hope you enjoy :D

“So, at the end of the day, it’s actually your moral duty to help me, when you think about it.”

Matt considers this and the preceding speech Foggy’s given. He decides on a slow clap. “That was quite eloquent. Professor Anderson would be proud.”

“So, it’s a yes?” Foggy prompts, and Matt chuckles a laugh.

“Of course it’s a yes, man,” he says. “I am your wingman after all.”

“And you do a great job at it,” Foggy says, and Matt can’t tell if it’s serious or sarcastic based on tone alone.

He takes a stab at it, smirking as he defends himself: “Hey, I thought we agreed not to bring that up again.”

“I am raising my hands up defensively. You said it, not me.”

Matt doesn’t believe in magic… But there’s something magical in its own right about the way Foggy can make him laugh.

He does, and it’s like that first sip of water you drink after a good run.

“I suppose I did.”

“Sure did. Now, close up that laptop and get your shoes on.”

Clutching his hands protectively against the sides of said laptop, Matt says, “Wait, right now? I thought you meant this weekend or something.”

“What can I say? I’m getting antsy. Let’s just do it now. I know you’re not busy.”

His left eyebrow lifts up and he flips out a hand in a palm-up gesture towards his still-open laptop.

After a dramatic sigh that sounds more like a wheeze or groan than anything else, Foggy says, “We both know you’re already two weeks ahead on readings.”

“For which class?”

“All of them.”

Matt hums. It’s true, but he doesn’t know how Foggy knows that. Is he truly that predictable?

“Could be three,” Matt says.

“Or,” Foggy counters, and the word wiggles temptingly as it exits his mouth, “you could spend some good ol’ quality time with moi. Eh? Eh? Any takers?”

Matt opens his mouth, and Foggy verbally pounces on it:

“Sold to the handsome duck in the front!”

“I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“Didn’t have to! I just know you that well. Wink! Shall we?”

This time, it’s Matt’s turn to wheeze-groan-sigh. “We shall,” he bemoans.

“Perfecto!” Foggy says, ignoring Matt’s reluctant tone. “Come on, up-up!”

“If I must.” It’s not actually that serious; he only hams it up to hear Foggy’s high-pitched chuckle.

Foggy confirms, “You must. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even buy you a little coffee treat while we’re out.”

“Why does that make me sound like a dog?” Matt can’t help but to complain as he folds his laptop shut and tosses it to the side of his bed. He bends down to pull his sneakers out from under the bed and hears Foggy cross over to his side of the room to do the same.

“Dogs don’t drink coffee, silly goose.”

Whatever. Matt just laces up his shoes.

Once they’ve gathered up their things—phones, wallets, keys, cane—they head out.

Matt asks as Foggy locks the door behind them, “So, wait. Explain how this is going to work again?”

“It’s a simple three-step plan. Elbow?” Matt takes his arm and they start down the hall. “Step one: acquire items; step two: give items to the beau; step three: profit.”

Profit in this case being, hopefully, the start of a new relationship. Foggy’s been talking about this crush he has for a few weeks now, and it feels like Matt knows everything about the guy—everything except for the name.

“Okay, what items are we talking about here?”

“That’s where you come in!” Foggy says excitedly. “I’ve got a couple ideas, but we both know I can be a bit…eccentric. I think you’d know better.”

“I don’t even know the guy,” Matt says dubiously. “Or do I?”

“Nope, no hints for you.”

Matt scoffs. “Whatever. Let’s just get my ‘coffee treat.’” He airquotes as he says it, intending to clarify just how ridiculous Foggy’s earlier wording was.

“Sure thing, puppy.”

“Foggy.”

Foggy just laughs, and how can Matt be mad at a laugh like that?

They set off eastwards, presumably towards that coffee shop they’re both fond of. Foggy starts telling a story of something that happened during his last class.

Matt… Well, it’s not that he doesn’t listen. Yadda-yadda, something-something, tort pun. Funny stuff. He just does a little bit of…call it multitasking.

It’s just that there’s something different about things this time. The two of them have had tons of flings and odd crushes, but usually it’s more of a short-lived affair. Foggy actually sounds kind of serious about this one, and it’s a lot to take in.

Even worse is that, besides dragging him along to pick out—apparently wooing gifts—Foggy hasn’t let Matt meddle in things at all this time around. Matt feels like it’s his job as wingman to find the guy and talk Foggy up a little. It’s what Foggy’s done for him a hundred times over. But that’s been off the table since the jump.

Though, perhaps that’s the right call on Foggy’s part after all: as time goes on, it gets harder and harder to stay in denial about the feelings Matt feels for the person who has become his closest friend. And he further can’t deny the jealousy that builds in him whenever Foggy hypes up whoever the lucky bastard is.

 _He’s a total gunner,_ is one of the first things Foggy had to say about the guy. _But it’s not annoying like you’d think it might be. It’s actually kinda hot._

Because that’s another thing: Foggy claims this guy is the “sexiest thing since sliced bread…” His words, not Matt’s.

_He has lowkey anger issues, but it’s more funny than anything else, I think._

And wasn’t that just perfect to hear? A gunner with anger issues? The guy’s a damn jackass. Matt doesn’t want to kill the vibe—especially since he can’t tell for sure if this is just a classic case of crush envy or what—but the more he hears, the more he knows that he doesn’t like this guy one bit.

And yet, here he is, walking side-by-side with Foggy, on his way to help pick out gifts for this mysterious love interest.

The epic lows of being a wingman.

They make it to the coffee shop and order their drinks.

As they wait, Foggy says, “What if I gave him a bag of coffee?”

“It would be pretty hard to drink it out of a bag, I think.”

Foggy snorts and shoves Matt’s shoulder.

After he’s finished laughing, Matt says, “Okay, okay, but actual impression? It’s a little strange.”

Foggy hums.

“I mean, how much do you know about this guy, really? Unless he’s a hardcore coffee drinker, this one might seem out of left field.”

“I do see him drinking a lot of coffee… But that’s a good point. I don’t know. What do you think would be a good object of affection?”

With a roll of his eyes and smirk at the wording there, Matt says, “I don’t know, a flower? That’s usually pretty standard, right?”

Foggy hums again, this time a little more drawn-out with uncertainty. “That’s so expected, though.”

Twirling his cane, Matt asks, “What’s wrong with a little predictability? Can’t beat the classics.”

“So, if somebody were wooing you, you’d like a flower more than anything.”

Matt snorts. “No.”

Foggy’s laughter comes from the top of his throat, high-pitched and pushing out the smell of mint toothpaste and this morning’s cup of coffee. “What?”

Matt laughs with him, explaining, “I’m allergic to pollen. Besides, flowers die. Is that really the symbol you want for the start of your relationship?”

“You were the one advocating for flowers a second ago!”

With a shrug, Matt says, “I changed my mind.”

Their coffees are called out a moment later, and Foggy hands Matt his.

As they walk out of the shop and into the fresh spring air, Foggy says, “I can’t believe you. Maybe I should have gone with the coffee after all.”

“Maybe. Where to?”

“Aaaagh. I don’t know. Colozza’s?”

“Colozza’s? What, are you buying Andrew a cake?”

“One: it’s not Andrew; two: maybe?”

Matt makes a sound that’s somewhere in the gray-space between a scoff and a laugh. “You have at least been talking to this guy, right? It won’t seem random?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. “We’re actually good friends.”

“Good.” Bad. Awful. For Matt, anyways. “A pastry might work, then.”

“You know what? I’m gonna google it,” Foggy says.

“Good plan.”

It gives Matt time to consider how screwed he is presently. It’s just his luck that Foggy would not only find some hot, studious type to lust over, but also to find a good friend in that person.

Truth be told, Matt’s been holding out hope that this wouldn’t become anything serious for him. Yes, he knows that makes him an asshole—no need to point it out. Regardless of the morality of it, Matt… Well. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend.

Even if he can’t have anything more with him, what he has with Foggy is good. Certainly his finding a serious partner would mean less time for Matt in there. Who knows? Maybe he could forget about Matt entirely.

Matt’s always been the type who—

“Oh, here we go: beef jerky bouquet.”

“…Excuse me?”

Foggy starts reading, “‘Meat’ the next best gift for your crush. A set of flowers made out of beef jerky.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“You like beef jerky!”

Matt shakes his head then takes a sip of his cappuccino. Once he’s swallowed it, he says, “I don’t know if I want a huge rose-shaped chunk of it.”

They stop at a crosswalk, and Foggy takes a sip of his mocha while Matt has more of his drink. The man beside them is vaping, and Matt’s so caught up in naming the exact taste—it’s lychee—that he nearly misses Foggy saying:

“They have lots of different flower shapes, though! Gotta love some variety.”

“Hmm.”

“Still a no?”

“It could be funny,” he admits. “As long as the guy has a sense of humor. How much does it cost, though?”

Foggy sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Forty-five to sixty.”

“Foggy, are you kidding me?”

“Beef jerky is expensive!”

“Sure, but that’s highway robbery.”

“You can’t put a price on art, Matthew.”

“I’m not sure how true that is, Fog-bert. Sounds like the price of this art is sixty-dollars.”

“Could be forty-five.”

Matt shakes his head. They start walking forward at Foggy’s prompting; then, Matt says, “It’s too expensive for a crush anyways. Save that for the first anniversary.”

“Yes, that would be quite romantic.”

“Wouldn’t it?”

After a few steps, Foggy says, “So, something inexpensive that isn’t food, beverage, or flower.”

“What ever happened to Colozza’s? That didn’t sound like a terrible plan.”

“Yeah,” Foggy sighs out, and the syllable takes an impressive three whole seconds to fully escape his lungs. “I guess it’s not terrible. Maybe that will be part two.”

“Two gifts now?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

This shmuck gets two gifts.

Rather than being shitty about it, as tempting as that option might be, Matt says, “Why don’t you go with something simple, then. A card.”

“Is that what you’d want?”

“Yeah, sure.” The words sit there in the air for a moment before he elaborates, “It’s small, simple. Something to hold onto. A good memento.”

Foggy bumps Matt’s arm with his elbow, saying, “Aww, somebody’s sentimental.”

Matt takes a bashful sip of his cappuccino then says, “Bonus points would be if I could actually read it. An e-card, I guess.”

“That’s not quite the same, though, is it?” Foggy asks, and Matt shrugs.

“Is what it is,” he says. “Not much you can do there.”

“I guess… Here, turn right.”

They end up at a Target a block or so later, and Foggy wastes no time in dragging him to the greeting cards section.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy says, and Matt hums a questioning noise around the cappuccino in his mouth. He has his cane and Foggy’s coffee balanced in one hand while Foggy looks around. “I think you’re great.”

He swallows his sip. “Thank you?”

“No, I mean…like a cheese grater.”

A bubble of a laugh hiccups its way into Matt’s mouth. “That’s awful.”

“Kinda fun,” Foggy says, but Matt hears the paper slide of the card going back where it belongs. After a couple more seconds of perusing, he says, “Hey, Matt.”

“What?”

“I love you this much.”

After a moment, Matt says, “I’m assuming this one also comes with a visual?”

“T-Rex with tiny arms held out.”

Sounds about right. He’s about to be cynical and mention the obvious jab of how that’s really a backhanded card because of how little love that is, but Foggy quickly snags another and starts reading:

“I’m fo’ real about you. And it’s got a little bowl of fo’.”

“It’s pronounced pho, actually.”

“Oh, so you speak Vietnamese now, too?”

“More than you, apparently.”

Foggy takes in a breath then lets it back out, saying after, “You’re lucky I’m nice and will let that slide.”

Knowing that means Foggy just couldn’t think of anything, Matt smirks and opens his mouth to continue the mocking, but Foggy picks up a new card and starts reading that one.

A few cards later, and Foggy goes, “Alright, got it.”

“Which one?”

“I got the cheese grater,” Foggy says, and for some odd reason, Matt pings it as a lie.

Before he can get the chance to question it, Foggy starts talking again, taking back his drink and leading them to self-checkout then out of the store. They stop by the bakery on their way back to their dorm, picking up a piece of cheesecake, which Matt said sounded best.

Foggy sits down at his desk to write a message in the card while Matt sits on his bed to pull his shoes off.

He listens to the birds outside and the students throughout the dorm building and the fly buzzing out in the hall. He smells Foggy’s shampoo and his own bodywash. He tries not to hear the scratching of a pen against cardstock and the smell of blueberry cheesecake in parchment paper.

For a moment, he sits there, hands folded in his lap, and all he can do is mourn a past that’s still present, a golden-age whose end is rapidly nearing, and he’s left anticipating the fall.

Because when it comes down to it, Foggy’s happiness is more important than Matt’s anything. He’ll take what he can get, beg for scraps until the meal’s all gone and there’s nothing left for Foggy to give.

“Matt,” Foggy says, and his voice wavers like a song, and Matt waits for the next note. Foggy stands. “I got you something.”

Matt tilts his head.

“Hold out your hand?”

Matt does so, and something light and flat is slipped into it. A card, no doubt, but Matt didn’t notice Foggy buying more than one.

“What does it say?” he asks.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

He swipes his hand across the card and is surprised to feel bumps. Slower, he passes his fingers over it again.

 _“Happy Valentine’s Day,”_ the front of the card reads in braille, and Matt feels his hand turn numb. He opens it up and feels the inside, which reads, _“I love you.”_

Suddenly, Foggy’s heartbeat makes itself known, stuttering in his chest before he says, “I wrote a little note in there, too. I’ll have to read that part to you.”

Matt’s mouth is parted, but he remains silent.

Foggy takes a breath. He says, voice steady, “Matt, there’s so much I want to say but can’t inside this tiny card. You’re fun and witty and the hardest-working guy I know. More than that, you’re a good friend. A best friend.” He takes in another breath before he continues, “Call me greedy, but I want more. Matt, we should date. Do you like me back, check yes or no—it doesn’t actually say that last part, but you know…”

“I...” Matt runs his fingers over the card, feeling the ink sink into his grooves of his fingertips. “What about your crush?”

Foggy laughs. “Dude, it’s you.”

…Matt’s the jackass.

“I don’t have anger issues,” is all he can think to say.

Foggy bursts into laughter, five or six joyed sounds falling past his lips and filling the room, bouncing off the walls and coming at Matt from all directions.

“Sure, you don’t,” Foggy says. He steps forward, sitting down beside Matt on Matt’s bed. “What are you thinking?”

It takes Matt a moment to find the breath to say, “Mostly, I’m wondering if you’re fo’ real.”

“It’s pronounced pho, actually,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs.

“It’s pronounced kiss me, you asshole.”

“Woah, somebody’s—mmph.”

For a second, Matt’s kissing Foggy’s top lip and nose, and Foggy chuckles into it, the sound vibrating through his bones and into Matt’s lips.

One of Foggy’s hands lifts up to cup the back of Matt’s head, and Foggy tilts his head up at the same time that Matt tilts his head down.

Now, Matt’s kissing Foggy’s chin.

“For the love of—” Matt murmurs into the stubble of Foggy’s chin while Foggy giggles against his nose.

“Hang on,” Foggy says, and he pulls back. Both of his hands move to hold Matt’s cheeks, thumbs brushing the corners of his lips. “Technical difficulties.”

Then, he leans in, and their lips fit together like the final pieces of a puzzle.

This can’t possibly mean happily ever after. There are still so many secrets between them, and—

Foggy pulls back, saying, “Matt.” His hands are still cupping Matt’s face, holding him like something to be cherished. “Stop thinking.”

Matt laughs, a force of breath which ends with him saying, “Not so easily done.”

“Sounds like I’m not doing my job right,” Foggy says, and he leans back in.

This time, Matt’s the one who pulls back, breathless. _What if it doesn’t work out?_ He wants to ask. _What if I’m not good enough for you?_

He opens his mouth and instead says, “You should have bought two slices of cheesecake because I’m not sharing.”

Foggy bursts out in laughter, and his hands move from Matt’s face, one holding the back of his head and the other squeezing at his shoulder.

“You can have all the cheesecake you want, buddy.”

“Hmm, maybe you can have a bite…” Matt grumbles, since now he feels like an ass with Foggy being nice about it.

“How generous of you.” Foggy starts to lean in, his breath hot and humid against Matt’s mouth, but he pulls back and says, “Really, though, I can practically smell the gears in your head smoking. Is everything okay?”

Inevitably, something will have to give. But in this moment, Matt has everything he’s wanted, everything he could want.

He smiles. “Perfect,” he says, and they come back together.

He’ll worry about the maybe’s and the what-if’s later. For now…

Matt’s going to let himself have this one.


End file.
